


the fear you won't fall

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Character Study, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, x factor era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:22:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He’s getting to the point where every time he cracks a joke, he’s looking out of the corner of his eye to see if Louis finds it funny. He tries to keep a mental catalogue of every polo he wears that Louis reaches out and touches. He wants Louis to keep a mental catalogue too.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Harry’s journey in realizing that Louis may be just as besotted over him as he is over Louis. X Factor Era, naturally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the fear you won't fall

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I make no profit on this. I do not claim that this happened or that the people portrayed in this piece of fiction behave or think in this way. Characters are of the age of consent in the UK, where this is set. Title snagged from Joshua Radin’s song of the same name. 
> 
> Notes: I think we all agree there needs to be more X Factor Era fic, so... yeah. It’s lighter on plot, heavier on feels. Also the soppiest thing I will probably ever write, oh my god. It’s been a while since I did the first love thing, but I remember it feeling a little something like this.
> 
> As always, please do not send this to anyone mentioned in this fic or anyone he or she may know.

Harry has an idea what this feeling is, even if he isn’t quite ready to put a name to it yet. 

He suspects something is off in the third week when Louis makes him laugh so hard he chokes down salsa and lets it rumble uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. When he’s hanging over the porcelain of the toilet an hour later, waiting for the salsa to come back up, he has a fleeting thought that maybe it wasn’t the food that was making him nauseous after all. He chooses to blame it on the stage fright.

What it comes down to is this: Louis makes him laugh. Louis makes him feel good and funny and needed. Because as much as Harry wants Louis to notice him, Harry suspects that Louis wants to be around him, too. Harry doesn’t know if Louis’ actually gotten ill over just how much he wants to be around Harry, but at least Harry knows he matters to Louis. That helps. 

Whenever they have to walk somewhere Louis will stride on up so he’s by Harry’s side, or hang back until Harry catches up. Harry doesn’t keep track, of course, but he can’t help but notice that Louis does this with him more than any of the other boys. He doesn’t count the number of times Louis threads his hand into Harry’s hair and he certainly doesn’t notice that it’s way more than he does with Liam. But Louis also jokes incessantly about Harry’s curls, so it could be nothing. 

It’s probably nothing. 

Harry’s just being needy again, hoping for every iota of his best friend’s attention. He’s getting his hopes up again, though he’s not really sure what he’s hopeful for. Harry just wants Louis to think he’s as great as Harry thinks Louis is. 

\---

“You two are worse than a married couple,” Niall says, before stuffing a spoonful of rice in his mouth. 

“Don’t know what you’re on about,” Harry replies, as he cuts Louis’ chicken into smaller pieces. 

“I swear if you try and feed that to him, I will actually quit the band,” Zayn says, but Harry can tell he’s joking. Well. Harry likes to think that he’s joking.

Harry looks over to Louis, who’s currently wagging his eyebrows at Harry. Harry giggles in response, and slides Louis’ plate over to him. Louis pretends to be disgruntled.

“Aw, c’mon, Haz,” he fake-whines, opening his mouth as if he were waiting for Harry to actually spoon-feed him. Harry’s eyes are drawn to his mouth, and Harry has to remind himself to breathe for a brief moment. Louis’ lips are dark pink from the juice he had been drinking, tongue thick and just... there. Harry has never been so fascinated by a person’s mouth before.

Harry wonders if Louis’ a good kisser, and how he’d react if Harry just laid out and kissed him right now. His mind flips through the possibilities, playing like a series of short films. A heated kiss, a hard shove, a cold silence, an awkward conversation. Harry doesn’t often think about kissing a mate, but with Louis, it’s the first time he’s not quite sure what the fallout would look like. 

\---

“Can we please stop choosing questions about what we look for in a girl or how we pick up girls? It’s kind of dull,” Louis says, and silence falls in the bedroom.

Harry’s laying in his bunk with the covers up to his chest, but they suddenly seem to weigh a stone more. 

Harry waits for Liam or Zayn to say they don’t think it’s dull. They seem to like talking about girls, especially in front of the camera. But no one says a peep, and Harry wonders if its merciful or not. Harry worries that Louis expects him to agree, to back him up in front of the others. Harry almost always agrees with Louis. But he’s struck with the fear of what agreeing might look like. That if he agrees, Louis might _know_ ; he might finally realize that there is nothing Harry wouldn’t do to win his approval. And Louis just can’t know that quite yet.

So Harry just stares at the bunk above him and tries to will himself to sleep. He doesn’t think about the constant gnawing in his stomach, or his ever-growing anxieties about his voice, the band, Louis, Louis, Louis. 

\---

“Harold, be a dear and go grab a scarf from one of the bags in the room. I must get ready for the video diary,” Louis says, with a fake air of sophistication. Harry laughs, because he always laughs when Louis opens his mouth. He physically can’t help it. He is simultaneously anticipating and dreading filming this diary. Louis will never tell him what he has planned, but it always makes Harry feel less like a spectacle himself. 

Harry laughs and takes off immediately, going two at a time up the stairs. As he goes he can hear Niall making a whipping sound behind him, and Liam making some kind of joke about ‘boyfriends’. Harry feels his face and neck heat up, even though no one can see him in the emptiness of the hallway. Mostly he worries how transparent he is. Everyone can see that he would do anything to impress Louis. 

They’re all set up when he returns with the scarf, settling in on the staircase. He hands the scarf to Louis without making eye contact, and then realizes that the only seat left is right next to him in the front. He swallows and then lets himself settle in, trying not to let their bodies touch too much. It’s hard, though, the stairs narrow and Louis’ diary persona as big and brash as anything. Harry’s torn between the desire to touch and the fear that any contact would expose him. What if by touch Louis would realize how much more Harry likes him than the others?

Harry likes to think that Louis is doing all of this for him. To make Harry notice Louis. Realistically, Harry knows it’s nothing like that. Not with Niall constantly gasping through laughs and the comments coming in on videos about how funny Louis is and how he makes them memorable. Harry knows Louis doesn’t do these things for him, but he wants Louis to. If Harry’s being really honest with himself, he wants to be a reason why Louis does anything. He wants to affect Louis’ daily actions in the same way that Louis has affected his. He’s getting to the point where every time he cracks a joke, he’s looking out of the corner of his eye to see if Louis finds it funny. He tries to keep a mental catalogue of every polo he wears that Louis reaches out and touches. He wants Louis to keep a mental catalogue too.

\---

Harry pads down the stairs quietly on his way to the kitchen. It’s cold in the house, but his woolen socks are helping a bit. He feels a bit disproportionate, though, all boxer briefs and socks, but no shirt. If he were a smarter man, he’d have thrown on a hoodie before heading downstairs.

He rounds into the kitchen, but he stops short when he sees a familiar shape standing by the kettle. He flicks the light on, and tries not to grin when Louis spins around, frightened.

“Jesus,” Louis breathes out, and Harry lets himself chuckle. “What are you doing up, Haz?”

Harry shrugs, and then shuffles over to the island, where he perches on a stool. He bats his eyes at Louis. “Are you making tea?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Yes,” he says. “I’m guessing you would like me to make you a cup.”

Harry grins and nods, all cheek. 

Louis moves to the cabinet where the mugs live and digs one out. He reaches towards the back, finding the one he knows Harry likes, the one with the fish silhouettes. For some reason, this small display makes Harry feel better. Louis is paying attention, he tells himself. Louis remembers his favorite mug. That has to count for something.

Harry doesn’t say anything, just watches as Louis puts a teaspoon of sugar into Harry’s mug and turns to watch the kettle again.

Sometimes he can’t help but stare at the bright spot that is Louis Tomlinson, but moments like now are his favorite. Louis all sleep rumpled, with hair plastered off to the side and a little shadow of stubble marking his jaw. His sweatpants are sitting low on his hips, a fact Harry tries hard not to think about, and his bare feet slapped cold against the tiled floor. 

Harry likes all of Louis, knows that’s what it is, knows what it means, and needs to do everything in his power to make Louis feel that way too. Harry’s used to getting the things he wants.

The kettle starts to whistle, and Louis hastily pulls it off the burner before it starts making too much noise. Harry’s grateful-- he doesn’t want anyone else interrupting this moment right now.

Louis passes the mug to Harry, and Harry reaches to take it, letting his fingertips curl around Louis’. Louis doesn’t pull away quickly, gives it a moment before sliding his hand away and turning to grab his own mug.

Harry feels his own mind race with possibilities. He’s aware of how he wants to crowd into Louis and invade his space, but he’s never felt the tension quite this strong. The opportunity to actually kiss Louis hadn’t presented itself, not really, or at least not since Harry maybe realized that’s part of what he wanted from Louis. But here they were, alone, half-naked, and Harry wonders if his heart could beat any faster. Did people actually die from sexual tension? Harry doesn’t think that is the way he wants to go. He needs to get some gratification out of this.

Harry’s eyes are wide when he makes eye contact with Louis. Harry’s not sure he could school his face into something calmer if he tried. It makes him feel better though that Louis’ clearly anxious about something too.

Harry sighs. If he’s going to die from these feelings, he should at least be honest.

“Do you think the others are on to something?” he asks quietly. He hopes Louis heard him, because he doesn’t want to repeat it.

“On to what?” Louis asks. He’s not making eye contact, his index finger trailing around the rim of his mug, but Harry doesn’t feel too bad about it. It’s easier to help him say what he really means.

“About us. Do you, um,” Harry looks down at his tea. He can’t remember the last time he was actually shy in expressing interest in someone. He’s usually all cheek and winks, charming people effortlessly. But he’s never been as invested and unsure about someone else’s feeling as he is with Louis. No one else has ever been Louis. “Do you think we should be, like, together?”

Louis' eyes flick up to his and Harry has to catch his breath for a second. He was stupid to think this was anything other than what it is. 

Louis nods, and Harry lets the hope swell up inside him. 

“Yeah, of course I do,” he says slowly.

Harry nods. “Good. Yeah, that’s, that’s good.”

They sit in silence for a beat.

“And how long have you thought this?” Harry asks before taking a sip of his tea. He almost wishes he was drinking something cooler. He already feels flushed without adding to it.

“A bit,” Louis confesses. “You didn’t say what you thought though. Do you think...?” he trails off. Harry can’t believe Louis even has to ask.

“More than anything,” he says. He doesn’t say _more than competing_ , because it seems silly to overlook the reason that brought them together in the first place, but the sentiment still sits in his heart. 

“You never said,” Louis points out. “ _Boys_ ,” he adds. Harry likes when they get like this, speaking in fragments. They get each other so well that he doesn’t need full sentences to understand Louis. 

Harry shrugs. “Neither did you.”

Louis shrugs too, but smiles. Harry feels the tension melt away a bit. That’s good. Louis likes him, likes him differently than he likes the other boys. He likes him in a way that scares him a little bit, with its intensity. 

“So let’s be together, then,” Harry says, like it’s the most natural thought in the world.

“Is it that easy then?” Louis asks, his eyebrows raising a bit. “We’ve kind of got some other stuff going for us right now.”

Harry smirks a little, which turns into a toothy grin, and cocks his head to the right. “Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were running away from a challenge.”

Louis chuckles. “How dare you,” he says, laughing, and Harry decides he doesn’t want to wait any longer.

He hooks his sock-clad feet on the top rung of his stool, and leans over the island until he’s close enough to pull Louis in. It’s not the most comfortable position, but Harry just has to know what kind of kisser Louis is.

Hands braced on the countertop, Harry leans in as far as he can to sweetly kiss Louis’ lips. Louis doesn’t lean any further in, but Harry feels a hand slide around to the back of his neck to hold him there. It’s chaste, dry, no tongue, though Harry is already thinking about slipping it. He feels that familiar kick behind his ribs, and he knows that’s Louis’ doing. He thinks about how much he wanted this, wants this, and how lucky he is in just about every area of his life.

Harry wants to get closer, wants to take the kiss deeper, but when he tries to arch the upper half of his body closer, his feet slip and he kicks the stool to the floor with a loud clatter. Louis springs back from him, leaving Harry stranded and sprawled across the counter. 

“Shit,” Louis laughs, looking to where the stool is on the floor. 

Harry’s forehead drops to the marble as his body shakes with the laughter that wants to escape him.

“What’s all this? Oh, you two,” comes a familiar voice from the doorway. Harry looks up to see Mary standing there, complete with bathrobe and curlers, watching the two of them with fond exasperation. Harry’s starfished across the counter half-naked, Louis doubled over laughing, both of them with stars in their eyes.

“Sorry Mary,” Harry says, when he thinks he can do it without laughing. He’s still smirking a bit, though. “We’re off to bed.” He shimmies off the counter and rights the stool. Mary looks dubiously at him, then Louis. She must decide it’s not worth pushing, though, since she just shakes her head, laughs, and leaves the room.

Louis puts the half-drunk tea in the sink, vowing to take care of it in the morning. Harry knows he won’t. They climb back up the stairs and into their room, trying to make sure they don’t get caught sneaking back in. Harry moves to slide into his bunk, and tries not to worry what Louis will do. Will he join Harry? Will he want to fumble around a bit? Will he ignore this altogether? Harry’s not sure which answer he wants. All he knows is that Louis wants him in some way, which is already the best thing he’s ever heard.

Harry looks over to see Louis sliding into his own bed, giving him a quick wink before turning over. Harry turns towards the wall as well, drawing the blankets up, so no one can bear witness to the grin that passes over his face.

\---

It’s 5:10 AM but Harry’s wide awake. His stomach is acting up again, lurching all over the place. It feels like he’s about to go on stage, but better, because he has an idea what it means now. He’s sure he probably won’t be able to fall back asleep. His brain’s going a million miles a minute, mostly replaying his brief kiss with Louis the night before. He sits up in his bed and looks over to where Louis’ bed is. Harry can’t hold back the grin when he sees that Louis is awake, too, and scrolling through his phone. 

Harry clears his throat quietly, but doesn’t say anything, and smiles when Louis turns his head and notices he’s awake.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Harry whispers, and it’s as much to himself as it is to Louis.

Louis gives him a close-lipped smile, and Harry sees his eyes crinkling despite the early hour. Neither of them must have gotten much sleep at all. Their voices will probably pay for it, but Harry can’t really be bothered to care right now.

Louis nods over to the doorway, and Harry scrambles to get there. They sneak into the hallway, Louis closing the door behind them as slowly and quietly as possible, waiting for the soft click that tells them it’s shut.

Louis turns and gives Harry another smile before crowding him into the wall right outside their bedroom and kissing him again. Harry lets himself savor it this time. While last night Harry had been the one to initiate it, he thinks that there might not be anything better than Louis on a mission. Particularly when that mission is kissing Harry. Harry tilts his head to the left and pushes forward, challenging. Louis’ arms are braced on the wall on either side of his head, so Harry lets his hands wander on to Louis’ upper back. Harry wants another point of contact.

He’s tugging Louis closer before he’s even aware of it, until their chests are touching, and Harry’s feels the blood in his body start to rush south. He knows it’s a bad idea, knows he should back off, but it’s Louis and it’s exciting and he doesn’t really want it to stop.

Louis' tongue is perfect, probably even better than Harry expected, and Harry’s never thought he’d have this much fun kissing before. Louis’ hand travels down to the side of Harry’s neck, where his thumb keeps brushing Harry’s jaw. Harry’s never thought of his jaw as a particularly sensitive spot, but each swipe makes him feel more and more boneless.

An alarm clock comes from the girls’ room next door, and Louis-- reluctantly, Harry notes-- steps away. His hand slides from Harry’s neck and down his arm before he stops and squeezes Harry’s hand. He doesn’t let go. Harry slowly opens his eyes to meet Louis’ and his stomach gives another nervous lurch. Louis’ eyes are sleepy, but bright, and his face is flush, the red spreading up his cheekbones. Louis’ looking awfully fond, and Harry has a hard time believing it might be because of him. Louis must just be a morning person.

“Right,” Harry laughs, his voice shaky.

“Right,” Louis responds, teasing. Harry uses his hand not currently occupied by Louis’ to swat at his shoulder. 

\---

Harry thinks that in an ideal world, they’d have time for long, lazy makeouts, where they got used to the idea of them being _non-platonic_ before escalating to sex. But what Harry quickly realizes is that long, lazy makeout sessions are just not an option. Along with their busy rehearsal schedules, they also have three other boys (among others in the house) who demand their attention and definitely notice when they’re gone longer than expected.

Louis gets pretty creative with ambushing Harry in that first week, tugging Harry into secluded corners and bathrooms and closets when they have a spare few minutes. Harry goes easily, every time. It’s fun and spontaneous. It makes Harry feel like the sixteen he is more than any other part of his life right now. 

They haven’t told the other boys yet, and though they haven’t talked about doing that, Harry thinks it’ll probably happen at some point. He’s not too worried about it. Mostly he’s just really turned on by the sneaking around and the guerilla snogging sessions. The downside of this, however, meaning that he spends most of his days at least half hard, trying to run through every trick to will away or hide his erection. 

This time, they’re in a bathroom in the upstairs part of the house. Louis is perched on the sink, ankles crossed just below Harry’s bum, locking him in close. They’re fully clothed, but Harry feels naked, burning up from his organs to his skin. Louis’ head is tilted back against the mirror and Harry’s kissing and nipping at Louis’ jugular, trying not to mark it but really, really wanting to. Harry spares a quick glance at Louis and sees him with his mouth pressed tight, eyes screwed shut, as if he’s holding back. Harry wonders what it’ll be like just to have a few minutes alone with Louis without him holding back. The thought shakes him.

Feeling cheeky, Harry drops one of his hands down to Louis’ crotch, and pushes the heel of his hand down. Harry thrills at the fact that Louis can’t hold back his groan, and when their eyes meet, Harry throws Louis a wicked grin. 

_Okay?_ , he mouths to Louis, who nods furiously, hands reaching behind him to right the hand soap container he had knocked over. 

Harry bends his head down to undo the button to Louis’ cargo shorts, while Louis takes the chance to thread a hand in Harry’s hair. Harry’s mind flashes to images of going down on Louis, and he shudders involuntarily. He’s always been a little bit terrified of what it’d be like to go down on a bloke, suspects he might drool too much, but with Louis he thinks he’d quite like it. He files the thought away and presses another quick kiss to Louis’ lips as he slips his hand inside and grasps Louis’ cock.

Louis exhales a small puff of air, but other than that, remains quiet. They’ve been gone for a few minutes now, so sooner or later someone is going to come looking for them. Harry knows he has to get Louis off quickly or else they’ll both be stuck with hard ons for the rest of the day. 

Once again, Harry thinks there must be some psychic cosmic link between them, because Louis seems to realize the same thing and reaches for the waistband of Harry’s sweatpants, tugging them down and reaching inside quickly.

Harry feels like the air got punched out of him a little bit.

Harry has quite a bit of experience with masturbation, having kept up a healthy schedule for the last six years. He thinks that giving a handy will be just like that, except maybe in reverse. What Harry didn’t think about, but he’s just now comprehending, is how hard it would be to focus on his technique when he had Louis’ hand on him as well. He’s having a hard time keeping his grip on Louis firm when he feels like his head is swimming with the feeling of Louis on him. It feels like every circle jerk porn he’s ever watched lied to him a little bit.

Harry leans his head against Louis’ and tries to focus in on making Louis feel good. Harry can tell his own breath is coming heavier, and that he’s not doing so well in terms of keeping quiet, but he figures as long as he’s not shouting or moaning or breaking anything, he’s still pretty inconspicuous.

“Looooooooou!” someone shouts from down the hallway. Harry’s never been a particularly violent person, but he’s sure that no one could blame him for the murderous thoughts that go through his brain in that moment.

“Lou, you in there?” the voice says. It’s Zayn, and he sounds like he’s right outside the door. Both Harry and Louis’ hands still, but their grips remain. They look in each others’ eyes as if to will the other to come up with a solution.

“Yeah,” Louis calls back. When Harry shoots him a warning glare, Louis’ shoulders come up as if to challenge him to have come up with a better response.

“Have you seen Harry?” Zayn calls from the other side of the door.

“No!” Louis shouts in response, definitely too quickly. Harry almost slaps himself in the forehead for that one. 

“Er, alright. You okay?” Almost any other time, Harry would coo about Zayn being so caring and concerned. Right now, however, Harry is more preoccupied with his mid-game handjob. Harry holds back a laugh and slides his fist back up Louis’ length. He prays the noise isn’t obvious. 

“Yes, Zayn. I’m _great_ ,” Louis grits out. He then promptly gives up. “I’m trying to wank, Zayn, so... please go away.”

Harry has to try really hard to hold back that laugh, using his left hand to cover his own mouth. He can tell Zayn hesitates on what to say next.

“Okay, Lou. Thanks for that information. Have fun,” he responds, unimpressed, before he runs back down the hallway. Harry waits until he can hear Zayn’s sneakered feet hit the bottom step before he turns back to Louis.

Louis rolls his eyes and then leans back in to kiss Harry, slipping in tongue before their lips even meet. Louis twists his wrist, and Harry stops thinking.

\---

The nice thing about being _with Louis_ , whatever that means, is that kissing is a cherry on top of a very wonderful cake. Because with Louis, he has a best friend, a singing partner, and a confidant. He also has someone who knows first-hand what his O face looks like. Louis also has a chiseled jaw and a toned stomach and shockingly tan skin for someone so English and Harry thinks he’s way too fit to be hanging around him. Yet, somehow he is. 

So even when they’re not kissing, Harry gets to spend time with Louis, and he still loves it. Harry finds it kind of amazing, actually.

This time, they’re in the bedroom, more or less cuddling on Louis’ bed. The other three are spread out across the house, with Zayn chasing Rebecca down, and Liam and Niall most likely in the kitchen. The door to the bedroom is open, so Harry doesn’t want to risk getting frisky, but any combination of the five of them cuddling is routine enough that nothing looks suspicious. Harry likes that. He doesn’t want anyone coming into _this_ just yet. He thinks they deserve this happiness a little bit longer.

“I’m glad we’re us,” Louis whispers, as if he’s revealing some big secret.

Harry lifts his head from where it’s resting on Louis’ chest. He pokes at Louis rib cage a little bit, giggling as Louis squirms. “Me too.”

Harry spares a glance back at the open door, and then back to Louis. 

“Do you think we should tell the lads soon?” 

Louis’ face doesn’t go dark, per se, but Harry can tell that Louis isn’t thrilled by the idea. 

“I mean, probably, yeah. They’re gonna be pissed we were hiding it,” Louis says, pushing Harry’s fringe back.

“They’ll understand.”

Louis hums under his breath.

“And maybe my mom and Gem,” Harry adds.

Louis sighs, but nods.

“Yeah, I’ll tell mine, too. But...”

“That’s it,” Harry finishes for him.

Louis nods. He looks like he wants to say something, and Harry feels scared for what it might be. They haven’t really talked about ‘them’ since the first night in the kitchen. They chose to express their affections physically, which while feeling really, really good, meant that he had no idea how Louis was feeling about all of this. He hopes it’s good, thinks it’s good... but part of him worries Louis’ not quite in as deep as he is.

“I don’t know how it is for you, Haz, but I feel really stupid. I mean, yes, like, stupid for you, but... mostly just dumb.”

“You’re not stupid,” Harry protests, but Louis cuts him off.

“No, I mean, ugh, how to explain...” he trails off. He looks thoughtful for a second, and then opens his mouth to continue. “Since I was ten, people have been calling me gay, telling me I was, or like, assuming Stan and I were messing around. I always corrected them because I wasn’t, how could I be, and it’s just... ugh. I wouldn’t give you up for anything, H, but it just makes me embarrassed that everyone else seemed to know me better than I knew myself. I don’t... I don’t hate being gay, I just hate that they were right about me, y’know?”

Harry doesn’t know what to say to that, really. He feels his throat tighten, and the urge to protect Louis thrumming through his veins.

“I wish I could step on every person who made you feel like that,” is what comes out.

Harry’s felt possessive of just about every friend he’s ever had, and he’s felt more than protective over Louis since meeting him. But what Harry had never known before was just how deeply a secret could impact his affection for someone.

Harry knows what this feeling is, especially as it grows and threatens to take over every vital organ of his body like an invasive plant. It’s not just possessiveness or lust or fondness. Louis has bared all the sides of him, from the boy who screams at video cameras to the stubborn teen to the leader of their ragtag band. Harry thinks he is all the more wonderful for it.

Louis laughs-- Harry lets it slide that the laugh is a bit watery-- and then swiftly moves to straddle Harry’s hips. Harry throws his head back automatically, lets out a small giggle in response, but doesn’t push him off.

“Eh, let ‘em watch,” Louis says, nodding his head towards the door. Harry beams, and then leans up and starts sucking at Louis’ adam’s apple. 

\---

When Zayn goes, Harry feels helpless. He’s starting to get tired, frustrated with everything, and he misses his mom. Without Zayn’s voice, things just don’t sound right, and Harry envisions his entire world collapsing around him. If they don’t win X Factor, they don’t get signed, and Harry doesn’t think he could handle this life without Louis and the other boys by his side. He wants so badly to be home, but he’s not sure what home is really like these days. He wasn’t expecting to leave the nest so soon; he thought he had at least another two years before he had to take care of himself. That, plus the cameras, plus his constant mooning over his bandmate, has just made life at the house a strange sort of reality.

“Looks like I have a grumpy boyfriend,” Louis whispers into Harry’s ear, which makes Harry flinch. _Boyfriend._ That’s new. 

Harry slowly turns towards Louis and raises an eyebrow. 

“What?” Louis asks, the picture of innocence.

“Nothing,” Harry says. He doesn’t even bother checking to see if anyone else is around before he leans in to kiss Louis. Harry grins into it.

Louis goes in for several quick pecks before spinning away. 

“Let’s find Niall and Liam and run through the vocals again. Then we should reward ourselves. I’ll give you a blowie in the loo later?” Louis tugs on Harry’s hand a little.

“Oi! Niall! Liam!” Harry bellows, bounding out of the room to find them. “Where the hell are you?”

Rehearsing again (but most likely the anticipation of sex) seems to do the trick, since it’s all Harry can do to keep from grinning as he sings _we don’t need anything or anyone_. He barely manages to avoid looking at Louis as he does so. He thought it was a joke, or some movie cliche, but he really does think about Louis with every song he hears.

“If I lay here,” Liam sings next to him, and Harry feels so full of love he thinks he might just untether himself and fly off into the atmosphere. Harry’s frustrated with the competition and wants to win so badly, but he’s got amazing brothers, an income that will last him at least the next two years, and also, apparently, a boyfriend. 

That night, Harry hears Louis singing _will you lie with me and just forget the world_ under his breath and he has no idea who gifted him with this. 

\---

“Nineteen!” Louis crows, pumping his fist. He steps back, aims, and tosses another kernel of popcorn towards Harry.

Harry ducks but manages to get the kernel in his mouth.

“Twenty!” Niall booms. 

They’re in the middle of a break at the studio, recording the backing track, and Liam has just finished popping a bag of microwave popcorn. The smell of butter and salt hangs heavy in the air, but the boys are much more focused in on their competition.

“Twenty-one breaks Niall’s record,” Liam adds.

Harry immediately takes this as an issue of personal pride. He stretches his arms and legs, and gives his head a few quick shakes to get him in the zone. He crouches, feet shoulders-width apart, braced for the winning shot. 

He smirks at Louis and lets his mouth fall open. He doesn’t think about the entendre, too focused on winning the game, but Louis’ eyes go a bit glassy, and Harry’s gotten pretty familiar with that look in the last couple of weeks.

Louis aims and shoots, but the kernel goes too high, bouncing off Harry’s forehead and dropping to the floor before Harry can recover.

Niall, Liam, and Zayn all break out into cheers when it happens, with Zayn practically jumping on Niall’s back. 

“Bastard,” Harry laughs, lightly kicking at Louis’ bum. “You totally sabotaged me!”

“I did no such thing!” Louis contests. “It’s your fault with your dumb mouth!”

“S’not dumb,” Harry responds, but he preens a little bit knowing Louis was so focused on him.

\---

Harry hasn’t said it out loud yet, but he knows this is love. It’s as much about love as it is about sex and about friendship and about music and art. 

The morning of the finale comes and they’re packing up, trying to remember who owns what and whose Hollister sweatshirt that originally was. Harry personally thinks it’s all a bit silly, because they’ll be seeing each other soon, will be touring together, and it seems useless to separate the items as if they’re all individually owned, as opposed to just... sharing. 

They take a short break and sit around the kitchen because it’s one of the rooms that hasn’t been packed up or filled with luggage yet.

“Louis,” Harry whines, flinging his arm out uselessly, “Make me a cuppa.”

Louis rolls his eyes, but turns to fill up the kettle.

The kitchen goes kind of quiet, but Harry’s too busy watching the line of Louis’ back to notice. 

“You’ve got the boyfriend trained pretty well, Haz,” Zayn says, smiling.

“I try,” Harry responds, bowing his head slightly. Louis doesn’t say anything, but Harry thinks his smile says it all.

Harry’s not sure if the butterflies in his stomach will ever calm down, if he’ll ever get a full eight hours of sleep again, or if he’ll ever be able to listen to a love song without the low thrum of _LouisLouisLouis_ in his brain. Harry knows it’s worth it, though. 

For all he was scared of feeling transparent before, Harry feels even more transparent now. But what’s more is that despite feeling more obvious, he feels less scared. Harry may not have everything in his life figured out, but he knows that he doesn’t ever have to worry about Louis’ feelings for him. Louis puts himself out there in the little ways that take time to notice. Louis confesses his fears, and is the first to openly lay claim on Harry. Harry can feel the way Louis’ body curves into his hand when he touches him. 

Harry knows he affects Louis just as much.


End file.
